... in my business life, on the eve of going on holiday, I would be finishing off a report at what, two, three o'clock in the morning and exhaustedly posting it through the office door in the middle of the night to be typed the following day while I went away.
It's beginning to feel a bit like that now. I'm in the UK next week and looking at the tasks I'd hoped to finish before I leave: huge areas of the garden still need strimming down; with our first guest arriving shortly after I'm back, the cottage still needs a final clean and the furniture moving from upstairs where we shifted it while the downstairs woodworm was zapped; there are large lumps of foam (now dried out) from the boat lying around the house that need new cushion covers and inner liners; the boat ceilings need painting and the work-surface in the galley replaced; I've still pots to plant, furniture to shabby chic and an idea for a mosaic on the cottage terrace wall that I'd hoped to do.
This is not to mention that yesterday evening Vita started a new "hot spot" and spent most of the night trying to get away from it and fighting the urge to lick it. While Bertie this morning found her steroid tablets on the kitchen table and ate the entire packet and had to be rushed to the vet to be made to sick them all up. He seems none the worse for wear for his experience, though I am.
That list of things to do - all before Tuesday. It isn't going to happen, is it.
I thought retirement was going to be less stressful than this. I need that week in the UK to recover.
Wednesday, 19 June 2013
Sunday, 9 June 2013
We've Bought a Boat
Or rather Tod has, since I get sick in a rowing boat on a duck pond, so it's not my first thought on what we might do with our time and money. Mind you, I do have this sort of image of messing about in boats - I loved the Arthur Ransome books, especially Swallows and Amazons - but reality is rather different.
Anyway, he bought it (her?) last autumn and I took no interest whatsoever and then we were busy all winter and spring and she just sat there at her moorings on The Lot, unloved and uncared for.
But now we've time and we've been lavishing some attention on her. Well it gives us something to do now that the good weather has gone again!
She's a wooden Norfolk Broads Cruiser, built in the sixties, and amazingly there is a photo of her in her prime on a boat-fanatic's website.
She was christened Gossamer Girl. (The boatyard still exists and they are still calling the boats in their fleet "G-something Girl".) And then her name was changed by previous owners to Lucy Mary, which has now been frenchified to Lucie Marie. She's certainly no fairy-like thing - being pretty broad of beam - so that rules out GG. And she's not really an elegant French lady, so she'll probably revert to plain Lucy Mary.
She's looking her age and we're investigating what we need in the way of marine paints and wood restorers to give her a face-lift - all much cheaper in the UK, of course.
Friends down over the summer may just find they get presented with a paintbrush as they arrive. But after a hard day's work on the boat an early evening cruise down The Lot to a local night market sounds like a pleasant experience. I will just have to wear my sea-bands, breathe deeply and remember Nancy and Peggy in the Lake District.
In the meantime, we badly need advice on how to make her more weather tight. With all the rain of the last few days, the mattresses in the cabins are soaked through. This seems like a "cottage moment" - better to know now that we've got rain problems than in the middle of a cruise.
Gossamer Girl in her heyday
Anyway, he bought it (her?) last autumn and I took no interest whatsoever and then we were busy all winter and spring and she just sat there at her moorings on The Lot, unloved and uncared for.
But now we've time and we've been lavishing some attention on her. Well it gives us something to do now that the good weather has gone again!
She's a wooden Norfolk Broads Cruiser, built in the sixties, and amazingly there is a photo of her in her prime on a boat-fanatic's website.
She was christened Gossamer Girl. (The boatyard still exists and they are still calling the boats in their fleet "G-something Girl".) And then her name was changed by previous owners to Lucy Mary, which has now been frenchified to Lucie Marie. She's certainly no fairy-like thing - being pretty broad of beam - so that rules out GG. And she's not really an elegant French lady, so she'll probably revert to plain Lucy Mary.
She's looking her age and we're investigating what we need in the way of marine paints and wood restorers to give her a face-lift - all much cheaper in the UK, of course.
Friends down over the summer may just find they get presented with a paintbrush as they arrive. But after a hard day's work on the boat an early evening cruise down The Lot to a local night market sounds like a pleasant experience. I will just have to wear my sea-bands, breathe deeply and remember Nancy and Peggy in the Lake District.
In the meantime, we badly need advice on how to make her more weather tight. With all the rain of the last few days, the mattresses in the cabins are soaked through. This seems like a "cottage moment" - better to know now that we've got rain problems than in the middle of a cruise.
Gossamer Girl in her heyday
Links:
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Overnight, it seems ...
... we've gone from thermals, hot-water bottles and log fires to sun-hats while mowing the lawn, supper on the terrace and a swimming pool that's already warmed up to twenty-two degrees (that's over seventy fahrenheit!).
Let's hope summer's here to stay.
It was disconcerting during the cold patch to learn that the Orkneys were warmer than here. The owner of our local garden centre said the weather in May was "une catastrophe". Hopefully he will now see his customers emerging from their hibernation and planting up their immaculate potagers and buying their gaudy geraniums.
The cuckoo has found his (her?) voice again and I swear I heard my first mosquito as I was gardening yesterday evening
The tiny maize plants in Monsieur F's fields around us have all doubled in size since this morning and the daisies in the long grass on the bank beneath the wild rose that hasn't flowered yet have grown another foot.
Let's hope summer's here to stay.
It was disconcerting during the cold patch to learn that the Orkneys were warmer than here. The owner of our local garden centre said the weather in May was "une catastrophe". Hopefully he will now see his customers emerging from their hibernation and planting up their immaculate potagers and buying their gaudy geraniums.
The cuckoo has found his (her?) voice again and I swear I heard my first mosquito as I was gardening yesterday evening
The tiny maize plants in Monsieur F's fields around us have all doubled in size since this morning and the daisies in the long grass on the bank beneath the wild rose that hasn't flowered yet have grown another foot.
Friday, 31 May 2013
Poppies
When Eric moved the pool house to the end of the swimming pool (because the previous one was falling down the slope into Monsieur F's maize field) he left a muddy patch at the side, which I lovingly turned into a small pebble garden. It was a useful quick route through to the back of the building so Tod could do stuff with the pump and then come back and check the pool itself was doing ok.
This year, the pebble garden has become a nose-high jungle that Tod has to cut through with a machete. So on the day we took the winter cover off I hacked down all the weeds. Among them was a soft pink poppy that happily seeds itself round the garden coming up in different places each year. It was here when we arrived, so there is a particular satisfaction in getting majestic poppies for free.
Without much hope, I cut off all the tight green poppy buds before I dug up the plant (it couldn't stay where it was) and plonked them in a large vase in the kitchen. They are such delicate flowers they seem too fragile to make cut blooms.
To my delight they are coming out and look lovely.
This year, the pebble garden has become a nose-high jungle that Tod has to cut through with a machete. So on the day we took the winter cover off I hacked down all the weeds. Among them was a soft pink poppy that happily seeds itself round the garden coming up in different places each year. It was here when we arrived, so there is a particular satisfaction in getting majestic poppies for free.
Without much hope, I cut off all the tight green poppy buds before I dug up the plant (it couldn't stay where it was) and plonked them in a large vase in the kitchen. They are such delicate flowers they seem too fragile to make cut blooms.
To my delight they are coming out and look lovely.
Monday, 27 May 2013
At Last!
We've had a day of sunshine and almost warmth.
Tucking ourselves round the side of the house away from the veranda which was catching the still chill east wind, we sat sipping our mugs of tea before the joyous task of removing the winter cover from the swimming pool.
As I've said before, there's just one benefit of a cold wet spring. The roses are glorious. I took these over the last few days dashing out with camera between downpours.
We have a lot of red and pink roses I realise as I take the photos. This just provided an ideal excuse to head for our local garden centre and find (to my delight) some splendid David Austin orange and yellow roses. Mind you, another very dark fragrant red one hopped into the trolley as well.
Links:
David Austin roses
Tucking ourselves round the side of the house away from the veranda which was catching the still chill east wind, we sat sipping our mugs of tea before the joyous task of removing the winter cover from the swimming pool.
As I've said before, there's just one benefit of a cold wet spring. The roses are glorious. I took these over the last few days dashing out with camera between downpours.
We have a lot of red and pink roses I realise as I take the photos. This just provided an ideal excuse to head for our local garden centre and find (to my delight) some splendid David Austin orange and yellow roses. Mind you, another very dark fragrant red one hopped into the trolley as well.
Links:
David Austin roses
Sunday, 26 May 2013
I am rapidly acquiring ...
... Old Lady Feet.
One of the advantages of moving between cottage (winter) and house (summer) is that I am forced to acknowledge what in my wardrobe I am and am not wearing. Lugging armfuls of clothing up and down the drive every six months or so between cottage and house gets very tedious, especially if half the armfuls are never being worn.
Sometimes I just shove everything back in the wardrobe and shut the door. But this time, after weeks of cleaning, tidying and repainting I think the bit of me that is my grandmother's genes is still looking for something to do. So I open a few shoe boxes that have collected an inordinate amount of dust to see what's inside. Good heavens, slim black "crocodile" patent leather shoes bought from M&S more years ago than I care to remember. How did I ever squeeze my feet into those?
We're not talking the odd half size or so here you understand, but a whole half a foot's width and length. While the rest of me seems to be shrinking, my feet are definitely still expanding and growing. I blame it on the sandals in summer and trainers and wellington boots in winter - foot attire not designed to keep feet under control, unlike the tight leather of "proper" shoes worn at work.
Even the trainers that I bought, what, no more than five years ago, are feeling a bit tight. Some of my toes are grumbling as I sit and type this. The next pair will have to be (yet another) half size larger.
Those ads for wide velcro fastened Old Lady Shoes in the back pages of the Daily Telegraph colour supplement are beginning to look very attractive.
One of the advantages of moving between cottage (winter) and house (summer) is that I am forced to acknowledge what in my wardrobe I am and am not wearing. Lugging armfuls of clothing up and down the drive every six months or so between cottage and house gets very tedious, especially if half the armfuls are never being worn.
Sometimes I just shove everything back in the wardrobe and shut the door. But this time, after weeks of cleaning, tidying and repainting I think the bit of me that is my grandmother's genes is still looking for something to do. So I open a few shoe boxes that have collected an inordinate amount of dust to see what's inside. Good heavens, slim black "crocodile" patent leather shoes bought from M&S more years ago than I care to remember. How did I ever squeeze my feet into those?
We're not talking the odd half size or so here you understand, but a whole half a foot's width and length. While the rest of me seems to be shrinking, my feet are definitely still expanding and growing. I blame it on the sandals in summer and trainers and wellington boots in winter - foot attire not designed to keep feet under control, unlike the tight leather of "proper" shoes worn at work.
Even the trainers that I bought, what, no more than five years ago, are feeling a bit tight. Some of my toes are grumbling as I sit and type this. The next pair will have to be (yet another) half size larger.
Those ads for wide velcro fastened Old Lady Shoes in the back pages of the Daily Telegraph colour supplement are beginning to look very attractive.
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
The Weather
The only topic of conversation - French or English:
"Le temps. Incroyable!".
"How are you?" "Fine except for the bloody weather!"
We've had the wood fire on in the lounge every day since we moved up from the cottage. Thank heavens we ordered that firewood last autumn - just in case. Bertie lies on the hearth rug with his nose only inches from the hot glass.
We scuttle across the cold bits of the house to the next pool of warmth: the lounge, my study, the kitchen if we've just had the oven on, Tod's room (if he gets round to lighting the gas fire).
We're reduced to tasks in and around the house - sorting paperwork, tidying the utility room and the garage. The swimming pool still languishes under its winter cover. Between showers we dash out to do more strimming and mowing - though some days the rain has been continuous, or it's just too cold to summon up the courage.
I'm still wearing my thermals (shock, horror!) and I've cut some roses and brought them indoors. It's the only way this year that I'm going to enjoy them.
We have yet to eat outside in the courtyard of our favourite crêperie.
Two years ago, we feared a drought (huh!) and spent hours watering freshly planted trees.
Three years ago, we had French lessons in the garden and cycled along the canal under the shade of the plane trees. And I photographed the roses.
It's good to have a blog and to be reminded that May can be glorious.
Excuse me - must go. There's a thin watery shaft of cold sunlight outside - time to don wellington boots and gardening jacket and strim down some more weeds. I might even manage to take the odd photo of drooping roses and post some here.
"Le temps. Incroyable!".
"How are you?" "Fine except for the bloody weather!"
We've had the wood fire on in the lounge every day since we moved up from the cottage. Thank heavens we ordered that firewood last autumn - just in case. Bertie lies on the hearth rug with his nose only inches from the hot glass.
We scuttle across the cold bits of the house to the next pool of warmth: the lounge, my study, the kitchen if we've just had the oven on, Tod's room (if he gets round to lighting the gas fire).
We're reduced to tasks in and around the house - sorting paperwork, tidying the utility room and the garage. The swimming pool still languishes under its winter cover. Between showers we dash out to do more strimming and mowing - though some days the rain has been continuous, or it's just too cold to summon up the courage.
I'm still wearing my thermals (shock, horror!) and I've cut some roses and brought them indoors. It's the only way this year that I'm going to enjoy them.
We have yet to eat outside in the courtyard of our favourite crêperie.
Two years ago, we feared a drought (huh!) and spent hours watering freshly planted trees.
Three years ago, we had French lessons in the garden and cycled along the canal under the shade of the plane trees. And I photographed the roses.
It's good to have a blog and to be reminded that May can be glorious.
Excuse me - must go. There's a thin watery shaft of cold sunlight outside - time to don wellington boots and gardening jacket and strim down some more weeds. I might even manage to take the odd photo of drooping roses and post some here.
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
The Woodworm Man Cometh
We're out of the cottage and back in the house. Forced out by small wood-boring insects and the need to have professionals come in and sort them out.
I tried to treat the cottage beams myself, last year, but the woodworm march onwards has been inexorable and so it's time to get the job done properly.
Otherwise, we'd still be snug in the cottage at the bottom of the garden, with its underfloor heating, double glazing and good insulation. But it's back to the hot-water bottles, bed-socks (very important before putting one's feet down onto cold floors first thing in the morning), extra layers and calor gas heaters to stand between us and the draughts.
Who would have thought May would be this cold? Or maybe, with cottage living, we've just gone soft.
I tried to treat the cottage beams myself, last year, but the woodworm march onwards has been inexorable and so it's time to get the job done properly.
Otherwise, we'd still be snug in the cottage at the bottom of the garden, with its underfloor heating, double glazing and good insulation. But it's back to the hot-water bottles, bed-socks (very important before putting one's feet down onto cold floors first thing in the morning), extra layers and calor gas heaters to stand between us and the draughts.
Who would have thought May would be this cold? Or maybe, with cottage living, we've just gone soft.
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